


stop and stare

by foretaste



Category: EXO
Genre: Canon, M/M, chronologically nonlinear format, written before zitao left
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:24:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foretaste/pseuds/foretaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For one second, he's back six years and Lu Han is in front of him with his hand outstretched.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stop and stare

**Author's Note:**

> title from onerepublic's song _stop and stare_.

Lights glitter. Stage after stage. Bangtan, Akdong Musicians, a pause and a skit. MC banter. Some C-pop groups. A Vietnamese singer up next, and one of the MCs exits.

Minho and Taemin moving over to their table means Yiyin won't be far behind. He looks around, and sure enough, there she is now.

"Sehun!" she grins wide, eyeshadow silver and hair streaked with red.

"Noona," he bows, and gives her his chair.

"A gentleman, a gentleman!" Taemin crows. Next to him, Jongin snickers.

"Clearly he's the only one at this table," she replies loftily, and everyone groans.

"My heart," Jongdae shakes his head. "I don't deserve this."

Sehun edges away, smiling slightly as he looks at them all. As dull as these events usually are — sit, perform for ten minutes, sit for another two hours — the way they get to their old habits and fall back in with busy friends is more than worth it.

  
He wanders around the table for a bit, Baekhyun catching his eye and tilting his head curiously before something Kyungsoo makes the entire table laugh. Sehun slips off and finds an empty chair by Soojung.

"Hey," she says, eyes on the stage. "You came after all."

"Hmm," he sighs, leaning against the back of his seat and folding his arms. "Director said they could shoot scenes I'm not required in for a few days. So I made it."

She shoots him a glance, sly smile curling up. He braces himself for a scathing comment.

"A _few_ days? Don't have a lot of screentime for a protagonist, do you?"

"Sidekick this time," Sehun reminds her, mumbling, and she nudges him with her elbow in triumph.

"Ow," he provides, and she just calls him a wuss, concentration back on the podium. She doesn't say much, just remarking on a few movies, some nominee choices, and he says even less, mostly grunting mindless agreement.

"What the hell," she sighs. "Lee Minho, _again_?"

"Hmm," he says, clapping because everyone else is. Seulgi and Zhou Mi sit down next to him.

Another man in a suit walks onto the stage, hair dark and gelled up, smile infectious even from all that distance away. Sehun sits up a little straighter. If anyone next to him notices, they don't say anything. But when the woman in red announces the man's name and welcomes him as the MC of their second segment, Zhou Mi touches Sehun at once. Just a brush of knuckles. _Hey. Stay here._

  
And Sehun tries, he really does. He's been trying and most days he's succeeded. Most days everything is fine, and if there's an ache then it's dull, and if there's nostalgia then it's weary. But this man is standing here, breathing in the same air as Sehun, and Sehun's pulse sounds ominous in his own ears. Thump, thump, thump. He wants to stay here. He wants to. But there are a million things dragging him backwards.

  
Lu Han stands on the stage, picture perfect and delightful, mouth opening to say his practiced lines, to laugh at his colleague's, to announce awards and call out names that aren't his, aren't _Sehun, Sehuna, Hunnie, Hun._  
Sehun's fingers claw into his thighs. He closes his eyes, and the pictures fly under his eyelids.

 

 

*

 

December, years ago now. December, at the time. The grandest way to end the night, the happiest sounds caught in their throats. Jongin crying, Jinki hyung hugging Yixing, everyone tearing up and hugging and cheering. Lu Han nearly sobbing, Minseok hyung's protective hand on his back. They'd won.

"We won!" Lu Han yells, as they run around and jump in a circle, shoulders set and heads down. And Sehun had stared at all those pairs of feet around his, had been foolish enough to believe themselves invincible.

The moments flash around, not in order. Lu Han and Jongdae singing Mirotic. Lucifer. Another night, Lu Han hitting him with feathers in front of the audience - but in that moment it really had felt like it was just them in the entire world. Chanyeol squirming under Jongdae's onslaught. There was so much, _so much_ , and Sehun's chest had felt so full and his throat so tight, his entire body buzzing so good. Win after win.

Dance practice. Lu Han bringing up their trophies and miming to _All I Do Is Win_ in the studio. The entire group laughing their asses off, Yifan actually sliding out of his chair. Tears streaming down Baekhyun's face, Zitao's high pitched laughter. And Lu Han just pausing and looking at them all, grinning, hands on his hips. Sehun had grinned back, and Lu Han let out a little laugh of his own.

Every second, unbeatable. Every moment better, worth more than the one before. And Sehun wouldn't tell anyone, but he'd had BAP's _Unbreakable_  playing in his head for _months_ , replaying in his head every night when they were done with practice and trying to catch their breaths.

 

*

 

A J-Pop group, a movie trailer. Minho on stage for directing a drama — Sehun's too dazed to recall which one. Soojung glances at him sideways, crosses her legs. Zhou Mi's long gone, and Seulgi sits awkwardly, the empty chiair between them.

  
Lu Han is still standing at the podium, smiling politely as Minho bows, raises his trophy and leaves.

  
"Best male movie lead up next," Soojung says, abruptly. "You nominated?"

 

*

 

Getting ready for the showcase. "Oh God," Jongin's saying. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

"Taemin finally rubbed his rosary off on you?" Chanyeol jokes, but his grin's tight around the edges, and his fingers keep tapping his knees, a steady rhythm in the midst of this chaos for some semblance of sanity.

"Very funny," Jongin sighs, rolling his neck. Sehun can hear his joints crack from across the room.

"Almost done now," the stylist noona says, sing-song and under her breath. She's touching up his hair, and he doesn't miss her muttering about his forehead. Lu Han catches it, too, and frowns. He's leaning against Sehun's table, checking his phone.

"Hey," he says, seriously, once the stylist walks off, and Sehun looks up at him. Lu Han's so... so blond and milk-skinned and dewy-eyed.

"You look great," Sehun blurts out.

Lu Han smiles, and his eyes shine, and Sehun doesn't understand how Lu Han can look this calm when everyone's so nervous — "Come here," Lu Han says, hand out. Sehun grabs it and pulls himself up. Lu Han's arm goes around his waist comfortably, just like it always does and always has. It makes Sehun calm just the smallest bit. They walk to Yifan's table, where he's just staring at his hands and blinking.

"Hey," Lu Han says to him, too. Yifan looks up. "Stand up."

"Uh," Yifan says. He stands up, and Lu Han turns them both towards the mirror.

Yifan's left eye looks like it's going to twitch out of fright; Sehun is practically gaping at his reflection because his face doesn't know what to do with itself, so he quickly fixes it to a blank expression. Lu Han is the only one who looks vaguely normal.

"Alright," Lu Han claps their shoulders. "We look pretty chill."

"Hmm," Yifan says, left eye relaxing, before walking away.

"Sehun," Lu Han grips his shoulder tight. "We look good, okay?"

"We look good," Sehun swallows.

Lu Han grins at him, feral and fierce and forcing him to believe. "Of course we do. Of course."

 

 

*

 

Of course. Sehun's legs have taken him to the front row, and there's an empty line of seats behind all the tables, so he slips into one. He's so close — so fucking _close_. He feels his pulse throb in his fingers as he sits and stares at that face. He looks like he used to, like he was on Sehun's birthday that year.

"And our nominees for best male lead," the woman is saying, as Lu Han takes out his card and reads it. Instinctively, Sehun leans closer. He wants to see his _face_ , wants to see his expression, wants get inside his head and know what Lu Han thinks when he sees Sehun's name.

And maybe Sehun imagines it, but Lu Han's smiles wavers, turns stubborn and plastic for the smallest moment before it look alright again. Lu Han looks up - into the audience? Into the camera? To search for Sehun's face in the crowd? - and reads out the names. When he says _Oh Sehun_ and the preview of the movie he was in shows on the big screen, Lu Han's voice doesn't shake, doesn't crack. His face doesn't betray anything, and Sehun falls back into his seat.

The lady next to him gives him a startled look. He ignores her.

Disappointed? Relieved? Confused? Hurt—- no. Sehun feels everything these days, but he's moved past hurt.

  
He doesn't win, of course. The guy who takes away the trophy is a Japanese man whose name Sehun didn't catch, and Sehun feels a number of things he can't figure out right now, but he's not bitter, either. Not about the win, not about Lu Han.

"Best female lead," the woman says, and the nominee names begin. Sehun gets up and walks off. Cameras will probably be catching him wandering around the event like a goddamned fool, but the press can't be worse than when Dispatch spotted him on a date with Bomi. One year on since then. Three years on since way back when.

Life has a way with hitting lessons home repeatedly, and Sehun remembers feeling helpless twice that year when the articles came out and the rooms emptied, remembers feeling helpless every damned second, helpless when he woke up and went to sleep and when he wasn't dancing, helpless when he got out of bed twenty one months later to an inbox of fifty messages from friends and seven missed calls and a single voice message from his girlfriend. "They know, but don't worry, we'll be fine."

The hate they had to face for weeks, thick like heavy smoke and just as toxic.

Helpless and wanting to change, wanting to turn back time and _fix_ it. Life's taught him so much about that feeling. About how there's nothing he can do about it.

The bar counter glistens in front of him, cold marble just wiped clean. Sehun reaches for a flute and sniffs it. Champagne. He's a lightweight, but it'll be okay for tonight.

He's back at his own table, and Lu Han's no longer on the podium. Yiyin's gone off somewhere else, and Taemin is practically sitting in Jongin's lap. Sehun's gut wrenches, but it's more out of reflex at the ghost of a feeling than a feeling itself. He sips his drink, and beside him, Minho talks about the experience of a director versus an actor's. _Lu Han,_ Sehun thinks, and nods along.

"So," Jongdae says, once Minho decides to drift back to SHINee's table. "Something's definitely up."

Sehun snorts as he sets his flute down firmly. In all honestly, it wasn't as if he hadn't been thinking about how none of the others seemed as surprised at this as he did, but then most of them had stayed or gotten back in touch with Lu Han anyway —- some even with Yifan as well. Sehun cricks his neck and raises an eyebrow. "You think?"

  
Jongdae laughs, eyes crinkling, the corners of his mouth curving sweetly. Jongdae looks so cute laughing. Lu Han had always looked positively monstrous in comparison. "Ah, really!" Jongdae says. "You can tell me, you know."

"I know." And Sehun really considers it, but right as he's about to start it off in a roundabout way, Baekhyun drags Jongdae up because Taekwoon and Jaebum are passing through and saying hey. Jongdae glances at Sehun, worried, over his shoulder, as he walks away.

  
Someone else on the podium is giving a speech now. Restless, Sehun gets up and goes to the bar again.

  
He's trying to decide whether he wants vodka or this light pink glass on the side, when he hears someone walk over, too. Out of courtesy, he turns around and bows immediately. But when he looks up, back straightening, he freezes. Lu Han's standing in front of him, lights glittering above him and casting his skin over with a slightly blue shimmer. His hands are in his pockets, his mouth is in an _O_ and his eyes look amused.

  
"Sehun?" Lu Han says, and Sehun closes his eyes at that because it's been so _long_ since this has happened, soince they've stood face to face and Lu Han has said his name, speaking only to him.

  
Sehun doesn't know what to say. _Lu Han? Han? Hannie? Hyung? Xiao Lu?_

 

 

*

Standing next to each other, backstage, elbows bumping. The silence is painfully awkward whenever it sets in between the pauses of Lu Han's determinely cheerful ramble, and Sehun wishes he wasn't taller than Lu Han, wishes someone else would speak up and apologize, maybe offer Lu Han a chair up on stage so he wouldn't have to run around and get out of breath. They dragged him out of the _hospital_ , for fuck's sake. They _owe_ him something.

  
"Yo," Lu Han says, eventually. "It'll be okay."

  
Except it won't. Sehun feels cold flood up his bones, because he is suddenly dead sure that it won't.

 

 

*

"Hyung," Sehun croaks, and Lu Han's slightly worried expression shifts to relief.

  
"Yo," Lu Han grins. "You okay?"

  
Sehun's knees feel like they're going to start shaking. But he's gotten good at lying through his teeth to outsiders, and Lu Han now is almost a stranger compared to Lu Han then. "Peachy," he smiles back dryly, and Lu Han _laughs_. It's the best and the worst thing in the world. His own hands, Sehun realizes, are curled into fists and sweating. He stuffs them into his pant pockets.

  
Lu Han finally quiets down, then sighs. "Yo," he says again, a tinge of regret in his voice this time. "Hun."

 

 

*

Shoulders touching, the whirring of electric fans at their feet, the bustle of the staff, the chants of the waiting audience. Kyungsoo nudging Jongdae, Chanyeol staring into space with his jaw set. Jongin peering over to Sehun and Lu Han. Lu Han grinning at them both, for them both. _It's going to be okay, I swear, what the hell, you kids._

  
Sungmin hyung peering in at the door and telling them it's time, Leeteuk hyung will be waiting for them on stage, now.

 

 

*

"What happened?" Sehun blurts out, circumstances so different from when he'd been eighteen and nervous and new to all this makeup, when they'd both been stuffed into ridiculous silver jackets and trained to dance to a song that started with the words _careless, careless_. But the trust is still there. For one second, he's back six years and Lu Han is in front of him with his hand outstretched.

But then Sehun blinks, and both their hands are to themselves, arms tight at the sides, and Sehun is twenty four and they're in tuxedos and meeting for the first time in three years. Lu Han's smile is not forcing him to believe anything. It's tired and soft, and he just says, "Sehun..." Then the silence again. Not awkward, less painful, but heavy and oppressive.

A ripple of claps from the audiece, some camera flashes. They'll be capturing this, Sehun realizes. Within the hour there'll be explosions on Twitter and various forums, girls discussing and disecting and distilling these pictures of them standing two feet apart and trying to talk like nothing's wrong, like they've been doing this all along. Lu Han is getting two glasses now, one for each of them, and pulling it off so casually that they definitely will believe they've been keeping in touch so far. The ease with which Lu Han hands Sehun's drink over looks effortless.

"How're you doing it," Sehun says, lifting the drink to his lips. He catches a whiff of fruity undertones.

"How we were taught," Lu Han replies, lightly. "Old habits die hard."

Sehun down the entire thing in one go, eyes watering at the burn in his throat. "Yeah? Make a habit of talking to people every three years?"

Lu Han's smile turns down a notch. "Not like I haven't tried before."

  
Sehun knows —- the others coming over with their phones in hand, telling him Lu Han wants to talk, Lu Han's saying hello, Lu Han — Sehun always said no, closed the door, turned away.

"I don't think I'm sorry," Sehun shrugs, as Lu Han steps closer. Elbows bumping, shoulders touching. More cameras flash, and something rises in Sehun's throat, clams up and crawls back down. Lu Han smiles, raises his own glass in answer. "I don't blame you." His smile stays on, eyes flickering over Sehun's face. Not searching for anything, just looking. Sehun turns to face the podium, the two small figures talking about the meaning of entertainment and talent and honed skill. He can still feel Lu Han's eyes on him.

"Lifetime achievement award?" Sehun asks, lifting his chin in the MCs' direction. Lu Han bows his head for a few seconds, listening to them before he replies. "Yeah, probably."

Sehun reaches for another glass, but Lu Han stops him, hand on wrist. It's such a sure touch, so warm and real; it feels like the earth is giving way beneath Sehun's feet.

 

 

*

 

Japan, the night before the concert starts. Air conditioning turned on full, sheets white and smelling fresh. Lu Han draped over one bed, Sehun on the other. An amicable silence between them as Lu Han browses Weibo on his laptop and Sehun watches YouTube videos on his phone.

"Pretty damned hungry," Lu Han comments, eventually. His chin is on his arms, legs kicking the air. "Let's get something mindblowing."

  
"Mm," Sehun mumbles, not really paying attention. Then, "What blowing?"

  
Lu Han snorts. "You blowing," he rolls over with a rakish grin. "Me." An eyebrow wiggle that makes Sehun throw a pillow in his face.

  
" _Jesus_."

  
"Alright, alright," Lu Han laughs. "I said mindblowing _food_. Let's go out and eat."

  
"Room service," Sehun protests, glancing at the clock. "And it's half past midnight!" But his objection falls pretty flat since he's already slipping into his shoes.

  
"And yet your actions bely your words," Lu Han notes, already out the door. "Come on, hurry!"

  
" _Bely_ ," Sehun repeats loudly, padding down the corridor. "Since when did he get all posh with his Hangul?"

  
"Since nineteen ninety, baby!" Lu Han calls back, laughing as he enters the elevator.

  
The streets they wind through are people-full to bursting and tiresomely alive. Sehun had been planning to sleep in a bit, before Lu Han had suggested food. Sehun keeps his head down and grips Lu Han's elbow. "Relax," Lu Han yells over everyone else's noise. "We've got phones and all. Age of technology!"

  
Sehun ends up dragging him to a ramen shop, partly because Sehun's a dweeb who's way too fascinated with Naruto's food choices, and partly because Lu Han is terribly indecisive. They order ramen, and Sehun eats at least four bowls of it before he starts to feel full. "Maybe I should stop," he says.

  
Lu Han laughs. "You think?" But he lets Sehun have another bowl, before agreeing that he really should stop. "Wait, let's take a selca. Just be a minute, okay? Here," he says, shoving his phone over to a passerby, "Please take a picture of us."  
Sehun wants the _ramen_ , but he doesn't have a choice, so he makes a peace sign and attempts to smile. As soon as the phone's back in Lu Han's hands, Sehun makes to ask the waitress for another bowl.

  
"Oi oi," Lu Han warns. "Don't want to throw up tomorrow, do you?"

  
"Just a little," Sehun pleads, reaching for Lu Han's bowl. It has some left and Sehun hasn't tasted anything better since the beginning of time.

  
Lu Han stops him, hand on his wrist. "If you dare touch my ramen," he warns, and doesn't need to complete his sentence. Sehun's arms slink back as he sighs.

 

 

*

 

"If you drink anymore you'll get tipsy," Lu Han says, arm lowering, fingers brushing over knuckles.

  
Sehun swallows and stares at their hands.

  
"Unless," Lu Han sounds uncertain. "You're somehow grown out of you lightweight high schooler phase."

  
"No," Sehun pulls his hand back, rests it on the table. "I haven't."

  
"Come on then," Lu Han says, beckoning."Let's stand somewhere that seems less shady to everyone."

  
Sehun sits behind Lu Han, all the other seats in the section full, listening to some middle-aged lady chatter away happily in Mandarin. Something about the grand performances and all the handsome men. "Good faces," she's saying, contentedly. "Everywhere such good faces."

  
Sehun tunes her out, choosing to look at the back of Lu Han's head instead, the slope of his neck and curve of his shoulders. The one earring he's got on. Three years and then three before, the first of April — _their_ month — Lu Han had sat in front and Sehun had stood behind, hands on Lu Han's shoulders, eyes and ears only for Xiao Lu.

  
"Aah!" Lu Han calls out, surprised, standing up as he claps, and Sehun jerks back to the present, body mimicking Lu Han's just like it always has — in simple movement, in dance, in sleep.

  
The event goes on for hours, and by the time people begin to drift off, Sehun's tired enough to say _yes_ almost before Lu Han finishes his questions of, "Swap numbers, then? Drinks, another day?"

  
The rest of the night is restless, after Lu Han's gone and Chanyeol winds his way through the tables to pull Sehun to his feet and get him back with the rest of them.

  
"Hyung," Sehun says, words a little slurred. "You've been talking with Lu Han hyung for a while, right?" He rests his head on Chanyeol's shoulder.

  
"Well," Chanyeol replies, voice careful. "Yes, I guess. Quite a while."

  
"Hmm," is all Sehun says in response.

  
They reach the dorms in the small hours of the morning, and Sehun tosses until noon, thinking about how they used to sleep.

 

 

*

 

"Hey, check this," Lu Han says excitedly. "This song is _so_ damn good, wait for the drop." He wiggles a little, propping himself up on his elbows, and hands an earphone over to Sehun. "Here here, see."

  
"Guh," Sehun groans intelligently, and sticks the earphone in before flopping his face into the pillow. The song starts out a little slow, words flying over his head because it's two a.m. and he can't be bothered to try and understand Mandarin, but then a rapper features in, and _crap_. That is a sick drop. "Ayyy," Sehun mumbles in appreciation, and throws a leg over Lu Han's waist.

  
"Oh, get off," Lu Han huffs, but it's without bite.

  
They are seventeen and twenty one, and Sehun can't sleep alone in new rooms so he shuffles over to Lu Han's bed, and all Lu Han does is move over to give him space. The first few nights find Sehun dozing off in little packets of ten minutes, five, fifteen, and once the week is over, his brain's conditioned to shut down the minute his head hits Lu Han's pillow.

 

 

*

 

Sehun is sweating alone on his bedsheets because his A/C's conked out. If Zitao were here, they'd curse it and maybe watch cat videos and consider a smoke, but Zitao's gone for his weekly physiotherapy appointment at 7 a.m., and now it's noon and Sehun hasn't slept a wink.

  
Since he's still got tomorrow off, he spends his time either playing on the Xbox or browsing through Chanyeol's library of various compositions, snippets and random recordings. When he glances at the dock on the screen, he realizes it's Saturday. Out of habit, or perhaps out of curiosity — probably a mix of both — Sehun walks over to Joonmyun's room and knocks.  
Minseok calls him in.

  
The door opens to Joonmyun frowning at his laptop, huge headphones on. Minseok's staring at his own screen, headphones around his neck. "Hey," Minseok says, not taking his eyes off the screen. "What brings our young soldier to headquarters." He doesn't even bother with an inquisitive intonation, too busy pounding his keys. "Joonmyun, don't kill _me_ , kill the _enemy_."  
Joonmyun doesn't repsond. Sehun closes the door behind him and sits on the ottoman by Minseok's bed. Joonmyun looks up in surprise. "Ah, Sehun!" he yells. "Are we having a Saturday catch-up meeting today? Want to talk about anything in particular?"

  
Minseok slumps back, "We're dead, Joonmyun." Joonmyun doesn't hear him, glances down at his screen and realizes their fate.

"Oh no!" Joonmyun yells. "We're dead, Minseok!"

"Never mind him," Minseok shakes his head. "What's up, kid?"

"Not a kid," Sehun reminds him, purely out of habit.

"Fine, punk. What brings you here?" Idly, he leans over to ruffle Sehun's hair. Joonmyun manages to pull off his headphones after a valiant fight.

"I don't know," Sehun admits. He'd rather spend time with people who stick around than think about people who don't. "What's up with you guys?"

"Hmm," Joonmyun says. "Minseok, do we really have schedules at the moment?"

  
"Joonmyun," Minseok replies, grave. "I don't believe we do."

  
Joonmyun's grown more tactful over the years, and Minseok, less silent. Where Joonmyun would have pestered him with a hundred questions and Minseok would have looked on uncomfortably, now they distract him with small talk and a trip to a cafe, an afternoon visit to the cinema, random conversation and updates on mutual friends and plans the managers have been discussing recently. Sehun sits back and lets it set in.

  
And despite what he'd told himself earlier, all he thinks is, _Lu Han. Lu Han_. He smiles when Minseok suggests a second visit to the cafe.

 

 

*

 

He goes back to work on Monday, crew team bearing down on him with makeup, latte and an endless stream of chatter that he tries his best to keep up with.

  
"You're back," Minjung smiles, all teeth and no warmth.

  
"At your service," he returns, weakly. He wonders how the agency decided to cast them _together_. They have zero chemistry to speak of, neither on set nor off.

  
The entire week is a haze of filming, work as usual. Cut, retake, shoot, action. Sehun needs to put more emotion in this scene, should face more to the left so his back is to the camera in this other sequence. Makeup, removal, wardrobe change.  
It's a blessed switch of tracks for his thoughts -- no more sinking into bygones and losing his grip on time.

  
On Monday evening, one of their managers texts to tell him he'll be half an hour late. On Tuesday morning, Jongdae sends a snapchat of Jonghyun hyung trying to twerk. It's captioned _I've seen it all_. Later that night, on the way to the dorms, Baekhyun sends their chatroom a photo from Athens, where five of them are performing at Music Bank.

  
Apparently Baekhyun's sightseeing, because he's next to a statue of some naked dude, mimicking the pose. The tagline is, _I need to do more body building... that guy is hotter than me._

  
_He's stone cold and dead and still hotter than you,_ Kyungsoo replies.

  
_Rock hard,_ Chanyeol adds.

  
Sehun grins at the screen, sighing as he leans his head against the window.

  
When he reaches, nobody's there. _Schedules are crazy,_ Sehun thinks for the umpteenth time. _All out for three days straight and no sleep, or nothing for a week._

  
The silence in the rooms isn't good for him. The TV has nothing interesting on, so he curls up on the sofa and pulls out his phone.

He's older now, he tells himself. And no longer helplessly codependent. He's got his own life, and he's got it together. And yet, however busy he'd been, even in the middle of reciting lines of a heartfelt confession to his co-star, it had been niggling in the back of his head for the past few days: Lu Han had seemed... happy to see him. Had promised to see him again -- had given him his _number_.

Sehun's thumb hovers over the contact, then scrolls adamantly down. He won't say anything first. Things are different now, and Lu Han knows that. Lu Han has always known him. And then he up and left but Sehun has a feeling Lu Han still knows Sehun in ways he doesn't know himself.

 

 

*

 

"Excited?" Lu Han whispers, flowers from Sehun's bouquet tickilng both their noses. Chanyeol hovers close by, and Jongin laughs in embarrassment as an acquaintance says hello. Jongdae stands a little to the side, ever ready to help with anything.

"I dunno," Sehun whispers back, but he's grinning, so he probably is. Somewhat.

"Nervous and thrilled and miserable," Lu Han guesses.

Sehun starts. "You didn't have to say _miserable_."

"Well, then, a little sad," Lu Han amends.

And he is. Sehun doesn't know why, but he is. Behind the bouquet, Lu Han sneaks a hand into the crook of Sehun's elbow.

"I've got you," he says, breath puffing against Sehun's cheek, and Sehun shivers, and Sehun wants him to just lean forward and _kiss_ and -- Sehun squeezes his arm against his side so Lu Han can't pull his hand away.

"You better," he says, smile as bold as he can manage.

 

 

*

 

The director says he wants Sehun to think of some of the most content moments in his life. Apparently he's been looking stressed the past few days, and though that had been alright for those scenes, it's not the best look for this one.

  
Sehun's reclining on a sofa, staring at his phone. It's been loaded with posed selcas and kisses he was paid to take, smiles fixed and for an audience. But they're all happy and he's got a girl on his arm and it's just for a drama. It's just for a Goddamned drama. It's not like this isn't already his entire life as an idol: pose, wave, brave the flash and smile.

He supposes the director is right, so he stares hard at the photo he's swiped his way to. She's laughing and her eyes are screwed shut, he's tutting and brushing his hands over her hair — he'd been picking a leaf out from behind her ear, if he remembers right.

  
_The most content moments of your life._

Sehun thinks small hands and small feet.

Ice cream and cotton candy, age five, holding onto his father's shirt.

Twelve, floating in a bath and blowing bubbles.

Drinking milk on the roof, fifteen, Chanyeol talking about high school next year. Just them and the entire city below, car car car person bicycle car car traffic signal, a cat leaping from a low wall to another car, car car car car. Road and more road, twisting streets and people everywhere. "Maybe acting school," Chanyeol's saying, and Sehun sucks up his carton until it crumples.

Seventeen, Lu Han telling him, "Good job, good job!"

Eighteen, Lu Han leaning away from him in the bathroom stall, both of them panting heavily, their hands sticky, their elbows bumping. Lu Han rolling his head back, a bead of sweat dripping from his chin and down his neck. Lu Han giving him a sly little side smile, squeezing their hands together.

Seventeen, walking offstage from the first showcase, and Lu Han's hand, as always, right on Sehun's waist.

Eighteen, kissing the shell of Lu Han's ear in a hurry, in the shadows, before he leaves to Beijing. Jongdae turning around to smile, shy and uncertain, as they all wave goodbye.

Twenty, winning another trophy for Growl. Or maybe the entire album — Sehun doesn't remember.

Another thing Sehun doesn't remember precisely all the details of — just the picture of it imprinted on his mind, and the feeling.

Standing on an escalator somewhere, going from one place to another, the group crowded around on steps above and below. Lu Han just one step above, blinking sleepily as he stares straight ahead. Bright morning light softening around Lu Han's face, like he was made for a halo. And from the ceiling, somehow, a feather droops down through the air conditioned place, rocking on currents and settling, finally, on Lu Han's eyelashes.

Sehun chews his lower lip in contemplation, staring and staring until Lu Han turns around to smile down at him. That's when Sehun reaches out and plucks the feather, then thumbs it over Lu Han's cheek.

  
"Cut!" the director calls, and the scene is over. Sehun blinks at the time on the phone. Barely two minutes have passed. Memories go by so fast. As he sits up properly and makes his way to the bathroom trailer, his mind wanders again.

  
Back once more, through all these millions of seconds.

  
"Is that a secret kiss?" Lu Han's eyes crinkle mischievously, and Sehun wants to say, _yes — yes yes yes_ , but he just shrugs his shoulders, drops his hand, fingers curling protectively over the feather. Later, he lets it slip away, out of the van window and into the wind, and feels a tap on his shoulder. "Hey," Lu Han says, "Listen to this." He offers an earphone, and Sehun takes it, his fingertips buzzing when they brush Lu Han's.

 

 

*

 

Lu Han had saved himself in Sehun's phone as _xiao lu_.

  
The first time he texts after they switched numbers that night, it's a month later and Sehun is eating popcorn and watching a movie on his laptop. When he sees his notifications, he chokes and has to chug two glasses of water before his throat feels remotely normal, and even then his head is woozy and his stomach is bloated. The notification still beams peacefully on his screen.

  
He takes a deep breath, clutching his bowl close to his chest as he checks his messages.

 

_xiao lu  
hey! sorry i took so long to get around to doing this messaging thing_

  
As simple as that. _hey!_ Sehun reads again, exhaling, and a thousand things dribble down the corners of exits and detours and _do not touch_ signs that he's collected up inside his chest since, while a hundred others well up inside him and squeeze and dry themselves out, hardening.

  
He wants to reply, and then again he doesn't.

 

  
_xiao lu is typing..._

  
Sehun takes another deep breath. Somewhere in Beijing, Lu Han is sitting at his own phone, messaging him. He's alive and breathing and talking to him. And it hurts all the more, because where has he been before, alive and breathing? It felt better to bury memories and pretend everything's gone for good, and yet here Lu Han is, knocking at the figurative door.

  
Of course, Sehun lets him in. Sehun always will.

 

_sehun  
hey hyung~_

 

 

*

 

Disneyland should be the tenth wonder of the world. Barely a month after debut, and they're already all together and in _America_. In _Los Angeles_. Lu Han hooks his chin comfortably over Sehun's shoulder, trailing along either behind or with him.

"Dude," Lu Han whispers, "That person has the same bag as me."

Sehun tries not to laugh. "No need to sound so _bitter_ about it."

"You don't understand," Lu Han insists. "I love this bag. Now I know why girls get angry when someone else has the same outfit. I feel blasphemed. I can't stop staring."

"Okay," Sehun wheezes, his laughs silent. "Let's get out of here then."

 

"Sehun. Sehuna. Sehun. Sehun. Hun. Hunhunhunhun. Se _hun_."

Sehun pretends he doesn't know the full grown man on the swing behind him. Then he hears a _whoosh_ and feels a rude bump to his seat. He turns around to face Lu Han, who is now smiling with satisfaction.

"I kicked it," he says, and Sehun sighs before turning around quickly to hide his own grin.

"Ya, _Sehun!_ "

 

 

*

 

The amusement park they're in is a bit of a national disaster, but apparently the sudden budget cut rerouted the production team to this place, so everyone will just have to make do.

  
"Why did we end up here again?" Minjung grouses, running a hand through short, wavy black hair. It glints in the sunlight, hard like a raven's back. Sehun doesn't let himself think wistfully of softer hair or longer bangs. He tells her the same explanation over again, the one his PA had given him.

  
"Yah," she says. "I should sue."

  
And it's funny, and he's laughing, but everything still kind of sucks.

  
"Let's run everybody through everything again," the director says, endlessly patient and friendly. "Alright? Take out your lines, let's have a read through and then assume positions."

  
The camera crew shuffle around, and Sehun's stylist brushes his hair over and fixes his cap for him before walking away to the side.

  
They're here to film the date scene, of course. He's going to propose at an empty park at midnight, because he is playing the perfect role in a perfect drama about perfect love. He still can't understand how people bring themselves to watch infinite variations of the same story line, over and over again. Still, Sehun takes up his sheets and reads out his lines, trying out emphasis on different syllables and waiting politely as she goes through hers.

  
It isn't long before a crowd of girls walk by, satchels slung over their shoulders and bright, sticker-covered phones in their hands. A few of them screech and giggle and point out. Some of the staff on hand walk forward and tell them not to take pictures, but Sehun can see the flash going off on their phones from meters away. He blinks, pretends they're not there. He's supposed to be filming, as it is. But then, "Sehun oppa!" someone calls out, and he turns around to smile a little and wave before he can stop himself. It's so second nature, it's almost becoming his first.

  
"Nobody ever recognizes me," Minjung deadpans, "What am I, a side hoe?"

  
Sehun snorts despite himself. "Self-depreciation isn't good for emotional health," is all he replies, and she rolls her eyes.

  
"Bet you come across that in some self improvement book."

  
It had been Joonmyun who'd told him that, actually, but it is a fair enough comparison. He doesn't deign her with a reply. After the fangirls walk past and their shooting's done for the night (or day, considering it's past two in the morning), the team breaks up and heads off in different directions.

  
"I'm not sleepy," Minjung says, and Sehun raises his head. She isn't one to talk so much to him usually. She smiles at him. "Let's get coffee." She doesn't even wait for him to say anything, just tugs at his sleeve for a second before moving away.

  
"Better not be an espresso girl," he mumbles, before walking off after her. "I hate espresso." Automatically, his mind's eye recalls a silhouette of a person who did -- who does -- like it, and he shuts it off. Espresso tastes like the soup of a man's eyeballs who's been dead five years, and nothing anyone else says will change his aversion to it.  
  
Two thirty five a.m., and they're sitting snugly opposite each other on a small table, knees almost bumping. The cafe lights are so bright they almost hurt his tired eyes. She's got an americano in front of her, and Sehun still doesn't know the difference between americano and espresso but he knows they both suck. While he's eyeing her drink, she's eyeing his.

  
"Caramel latte, triple shot of... I don't even know."

  
"It's sweet," he emphasises. "I want something nice and soothing."

  
"Could have ordered green tea," she suggests, but the bell tinkles and a man comes into the shop, little boy in tow.  
Minjung's back is to the door, so she turns around to look. "Ah, Jesus," she says, softly. "So late at night and that kid is awake."

  
The man heads over to the counter to order, and the boy twirls around in a circle by himself, arms outspread. Then he stops and spots Sehun, and squeals. "Jesus," Minjung groans. "This is terrible." Sehun just smirks and waves at him.

  
"Ajusshi!" the boy yells. "You're so cool!"

  
Sehun pales considerably. "Did he just--"

"Mmm, I like this turn of events," Minjung grins, and waves at the kid, too.

The kid's father returns and tries to pull the kid away, "Hey, hey, don't disturb strangers, Jisung."

But Jisung ducks his father's grab and leaps straight onto Sehun's lap. "Hand shake!" he yells in Sehun's face, so Sehun grins and shakes his hand.

"Hug!"

Sehun complies, and rubs the top of his head for good measure. The father stands by, embarrassed. "Ah, I'm sorry, he's --"

"He's cute," Sehun grins up at him, and Jisung wiggles in agreement at this praise, before sliding to the floor and going back to the man. He keeps turning around and smiling at Sehun while he and his father wait for their order, and calls a, "See you tomorrow!" when they leave.

"You're pretty cute with kids," Minjung comments.

"Ahan?" he smiles, relaxing in his seat now that they're alone again.

"And you've got that whole," she waves her hands. "Quiet. Receptive vibe. Probably make a nice dad."

He laughs raucously at that, then tries to check himself and covers his mouth with his hand. "Me, a dad? Seriously?" He thinks about it. "It's just practice, really." Volunteering, he remembers.

His phone buzzes right then, so she takes a sip and pointedly leaves him to it. It's a text, from Lu Han. Sehun's heart shouldn't shake in his ears, but it does.

 

  
_xiao lu  
_

_suffering T-T parents set me up T-T_  
on a date T-T she is so not my type T-T  
i cant believe they managed to do this  
im in america and still this!!!!  
tell me ur suffering too ;;;;... ;(

  
In the background, Sehun's aware that Minjung's own phone is beeping, so now they're both texting other people and he can't just... ignore this. He can't ignore this. He closes his eyes and breathes and counts to ten. It had been painful enough with Lu Han within reach, but now with Lu Han so far away and telling him this, it's even worse.

 

 

*

 

August, 2013. Today's fansign doesn't really stand out from the others they've had so far. The turn up is the usual amount (a good amount, an exhausting amount), they're all sitting in a row, not too distant from and not too close to each other, and Chanyeol's feet are sticking out from underneath the table. The post-it notes on the albums and photobooks have different questions that are all the same, and his head is muddled and he keeps reaching for his water bottle every five minutes.

  
"You'll have to pee in your pants at this rate, I don't think there's a bathroom nearby," Jongin whispers to him, and Sehun chokes on his water.

  
"Shut up," he whispers back, once he's recovered, and smiles at the girl who comes up to him next. She's got glasses on, blushing as she hands him her album and asks him her question directly.

  
"Sehuna," she says, "If you'd marry one of your members, who would it be?"

  
He doesn't even need to think about it. Neither does Jongin, obviously, since he kicks Sehun's leg almost before Sehun replies. "Lu Han hyung," he says, even adding in an, " _Obviously_ ," as he signs her album with a flourish. Absently, he doodles a little heart, then remembers to ask her name so he can write it down.

 

 

*

 

Sehun glances up and looks at Minjung. Still typing on her phone. Smiling at it, too.

  
_yeah... lol_ he types in, and presses _Send._

  
_xiao lu_  
  
wish u were here instead T_T we'd have a good date

 

  
And Sehun leans back and considers this. He thinks about the years of touches they've shared and secrets they've spilt, hours of sitting together at airports and in airplanes and leaning on each other's shoulders, hands on each other's waists, chins hooked over knees after warm up sessions in the studio and holding each other's heads over the toilet after they'd decided to drink too much _again_. He thinks about trailing fingers and the first and last time they'd really, really touched and felt. He thinks about feeling desperate and going over to Lu Han's bed even when they'd been arguing, about kicking the blanket off the both of them and Lu Han just acquiesing and holding him close.  
  
He reads the screen again. _wish u were here_

Doesn't Sehun wish, too.

  
_sehun_  
  
haha yeah  
would be great

 

"Salty aftertaste?" Minjung prompts him, and Sehun starts.

"Wh-what?"

"Bad aftertaste from the latte? You look like you got something really bitter."

No kidding.

"Nah. Was just thinking."

They split the bill and leave.  
  
Everyone in the dorms is up by the time he reaches. "Look who's here," Baekhyun crows. "Just in time for breakfast, too!"

"So wild, Joonmyun," Minseok comments. "We need to do something about him."

Sehun smiles, tiredly. "Hey, guys."

"It was the big proposal scene wasn't it," Jongin yawns, sliding into his chair. He takes up the teaspoon and frowns at the empty bowl. "Is this some kind of prank? What am I supposed to eat?"

"Eat air," Sehun yawns, too. "And yeah, I went down on one knee and gave her a fake Tiffany's, the whole deal."

"Kiss scene," Chanyeol predicts.

"Correct."

"Bet you didn't make out with the camera, though," Chanyeol says. He turns around and surveys the kitchen. "Anyone else in this room make out with a camera?"

Sehun has no idea why this is something to brag about, but he takes a seat next to Chanyeol anyway.

"Except you, Jongin," Chanyeol adds, hastily. "Nobody needs to know about your Taemin sexcapades."

Still staring dully at his empty bowl, Jongin manages a devious grin. "Indeed."

 

 

*

 

Something, Sehun finds out once they've flown back home, that none of the fans managed to catch in extensive detail: him and Lu Han wandering through Los Angeles by themselves.

  
Hands held tightly, fingers interlinked, they explored whatever they could in the time they had. A bar that Lu Han comically shielded Sehun's eyes from, a mall, some thrift shops, but mostly crooked, narrow alleys with every kind of stall, person and stray cat pushing against them in the hustle bustle of the afternoon. "Hey," Lu Han said, pointing at a booth with boxers folded neatly on the counter.

  
"No," Sehun said at once. "Hyung, you _can't_ —"

  
But Lu Han dragged him along despite the protestations, and ended up purchasing Donald and Daisy duck underwear. "Dibs on Donald," Lu Han declared, bag in hand. "I _am_ manly, dammit."

  
Sehun never mentioned this to anyone, but he had always preferred Daisy anyway.

  
Later, they found a pedestrian bridge and paused in the middle of it, Sehun leaning over the railings. Cars honk and screech below, and Lu Han winced. "Not very romantic," he had remarked.

  
Sehun shuffled closer to him. "Remember that movie about the girl who drowns in the end?"

  
"Even more unromantic, Sehuna! Anyway, there are too many of those movies. Be more specific."

  
"The one where they imagine their own magical land," Sehun persisted. "And the guy paints."

  
"Oh, Terebithia."

  
"Hmm."

  
"So you're trying to say I should imagine a romantic vision? Lu Han let out a chuckle.

  
"Well, I can help. See, that road is really a river, and these are all trees by the riverbank. This bridge is made of stone —"

  
"And there are mountains on the horizon? And lights tangled through the trees?"

  
"And a flock of nymphs to serenade you," Sehun grinned.

  
Lu Han laughed outright this time. "Punk! I don't need nymphs." A little pause, Lu Han shuffling closer to him. "You're enough by yourself," he teased. And Sehun shouldn't have felt anything, he really shouldn't have, but his stomach swooped oddly at that, like he was flying in a good dream.

 

 

*

  
_xiao lu_

 __  
hey. i'll be coming over to seoul  
for some filming  
in like a week.  
...u think maybe  
we could meet up?

 

 

*

China. When Lu Han's new and scruffy haired with that terrible Tohoshinki-esque haircut, Lu Han never stops pouring stories to Sehun about it. His entire life back there, he'd left for a language, and now for music he's left everything. And he doesn't mind -- that's the part that Sehun latches onto the most. He does it all willingly, wrapping himself along whatever life throws him and making it his own plan, as if he'd thought of exactly all those windfalls and shortballs from the start.

  
But Sehun, Sehun just runs with things. He accepts and he follows and he gets tired and dismissed and blamed for not trying hard enough, and still he follows. Tenacity is the only thing he's good at, it seems, but then he says something to Lu Han and Lu Han _laughs_ like Sehun's all set to go and win some stand up comedian award or something, and Sehun thinks, alright. He could get used to this. Things are better when Lu Han is around.

  
They reach the subway station, old sneakers squeaking along. Sehun has a pair of Lu Han's hand-me-downs, partly because Lu Han grew out of them and Sehun grew out of his own and these ones fit, and partly because Sehun secretly believes they're good luck. What part of Lu Han isn't?

  
The entire place is deserted. It's to be expected; half past one in the morning is not the most ideal time for traveling, and this old place is going to undergo renovation and re-construction next month anyway. Nobody really comes by here anymore, except for them.

  
Lu Han's talking about food stalls around the busiest area of Beijing, wistfully telling him about the steamed pork buns one minute before switching to his own mother's manchurian. "Better than the shops, Sehun, one day I'll take you there." And then they both pause -- two gangly boys waiting for the train to arrive, beanies pulled low over their foreheads and knees subtly-not-so-subtly rubbing against each other for reassurance.

  
_One day, I'll take you there._

  
"You will?" Sehun whispers, breaking the silence, and Lu Han turns around to face him, expression unreadable before it breaks into the smile Sehun's grown so familiar with. Easy and wide and crinkly eyed.

  
"I promise, Sehuna." And then he takes a step closer, til their foreheads almost bump and Lu Han's hands are trembling and slowly, slowly coming up to rest at Sehun's elbows. Lu Han bends down a little, twists his head, and they're just two boys, really, two worn-thin sets of bones aching for each other for months and weeks and years, now, and Lu Han's lips brush over Sehun's and Sehun tip toes, cold wind rushing through the subway just as he kisses back, and Lu Han keeps kissing him, keeps drawing back to whisper _I promise, I promise, Sehuna I promise,_ like each word and each breath and each inch of their skin that touches is _I love you_ , over and over again.

  
Sehun clings to him and believes.

 

 

*

 

They meet up in a car. Sehun should have expected this, but he hadn't, and now he's underwhelmed and tapping his fingers on the armrest, more than a little annoyed.

  
Lu Han clears this throat embarrassedly, sensing it. "Well, so."

  
It's midnight, too, because what pair of rich, celebrity trying-to-become-friends-again dudes don't meet up in a car at midnight like they're part of some reassembled drug cartail meeting up after busting out of jail. Except Sehun hasn't slept properly in a week and he hasn't touched marijuana in his sad, overly scrutinized twenty four years of life.

  
"I think maybe a good way to," Lu Han starts, drumming a little beat against his steering wheel and bopping his head to ease the atmosphere. But then he stops, because it isn't easing the atmosphere, and he's noticed the dark circles under Sehun's eyes. Which is honestly pretty rude, and he shouldn't be noticing _or_ staring, because they both know that nobody sleeps in this industry, and sometimes people run out of BB cream. It's normal.

  
"Let's get drunk," Lu Han advises him, and doesn't even wait for Sehun to say anything before he turns the wheel, reverses the car from its parked spot, and starts driving.  
  
"Your standards have been lowered," Sehun comments, throat a little raspy. They're sitting on the bonnet of Lu Han's car, a shopping bag of beer cans between them. "You'd get us drunk at three star restaurants before. With actual wine."

  
Lu Han laughs quietly, and Sehun leans sideways a little to look at him better. The long lashes dip seemingly bashfully, the wide grin tells another story, and his teeth gleam as his head drops as his shoulders shake. Sehun revels in it all. "Ah, you're making me seem so cheap."

  
"I am," Sehun admits. Then he raises his can and his eyebrow simultaneously for emphasis, "But am I _wrong_? That, is the question."

  
"You're not," Lu Han says, still laughing a little. "But before we could actually get drunk without getting caught."

  
It brings a lull to the conversation, both of them reminiscing as they down beer and stare up at the sky. It's dull and the stars have hidden away since the last time they'd been like this. They were on a hotel roof, and it was during their last tour stop together. Sehun forgets the city.

  
"It's been a while," Lu Han sighs, and he brings his knees up and hugs them.

  
Sehun pushes back against the windshield and spreads his legs, arms behind his head. "It has."  
  
Somewhere along the next few moments, Sehun speaks up again, and he's not sure of what he's saying exactly, but he thinks it has something to do with how they'd be if Lu Han... if Lu Han hadn't. He realizes how desperate it sounds, tries to take it back, hopes Lu Han won't laugh at him with that sad smile of his that he seems to have grown into -- the tiniest little quirk downwards on one end and the other end of his mouth curving up, eyes stubbornly glazing over.

  
And Lu Han doesn't. He talks back. He says it might have been better, says they might have had so much more together. Somewhere along the next few words, Lu Han's fingers find Sehun's, like they always had and always did and always have and always do and maybe maybe maybe always will, and they tangle, just softly, just so, and Sehun thinks it's the beer that's making Lu Han so lucid and wistful, and it probably is, but he clings to this, to Lu Han's fingers and Lu Han's words, and lets himself believe.

  
"You made a lot of promises," Sehun says, eventually, when Lu Han's almost half-drowsed himself back to silence.

  
A squeezing pressure on his hand. "I meant them."

  
"I know you did," Sehun sighs, and that's the worst of it. That's the worst and best of it, to realize promises said at times are promises meant, and when things break ahead in time, that doesn't make the promises any less sincere. Those words are frozen forever and crystal clear, meant and genuine in every syllable, every exhale. It's the worst because it's over, and the best because it happened.

  
"You promised me China," Sehun says, presently, turning his head lazily to look at Lu Han again. Calm profile, elegant and sweeping in every way. Eyes almost closed. "Remember?" he adds.

  
"Ah," Lu Han says. His eyes flutter open, and he stares ahead. "I promised." Another tug at Sehun's hand. "I remember."

  
Sehun's lips are dry and his throat rasps again. "Does it still stand?"

  
Lu Han pulls Sehun's hand up, brings it to his mouth and kisses it, still staring straight ahead. He kisses Sehun's hand all over, every inch and every finger, inside his wrist and over his bone, between his fingers and on the tips of them. Each kiss like a fragment of something old and forgotten but renewing itself, redeeming itself. Each kiss like something trying to come back, like _let's try again._

  
Sehun sits there, trembling, lets Lu Han do whatever he will.

  
"It does," Lu Han says at length, lets their hands drop to his lap, lets his head drop back against the windshield, lets an exhale _whoosh_ out of his chest. He turns and looks back at Sehun, finally. "It does, Sehun. Always."

  
Sehun thinks about how short Lu Han's _always_ has been before, but he lets it happen.

 

 

*

 

Sehun is out of breath and fifteen years old, lying spread-eagled on the floor of their practice room. Jongin goes through moves with Moonkyu hyung in the far corner, and someone shuffles in through the door. Sehun can't recognize the footsteps, but he also can't be bothered to open his eyes and see who it is, so he just goes back to trying to even his breathing.

  
The steps stop by his arm. "Hey," someone says, shyly. A vaguely familiar voice.

  
Sehun opens his eyes and looks. It's that pretty guy Joonmyun hyung had really taken a liking to. Lu something. He's smiling. "Hey," Sehun says, smiling back.

  
"I was going to get bubble tea," the guy says, a little haltingly. "Do you want to come too?"

  
Sehun gives a half second to think about it. "Sure."  
  
Sehun is sixteen, and the boy opposite him is Lu Han but Sehun's christened him Xiao Lu and they smile as they bump knees under the table, straws in their mouths, almost empty cups in their hands.

  
"Are you going to suck up the actual balls," Lu Han comments, amused.

  
"I just like sucking," Sehun answers, indifferent. Lu Han raises an eyebrow and continues rambling about Manchester United. Staring at Lu Han's lashes and the way he shakes his head when he talks gives Sehun an inexplicable urge to _do_ something. He decides to be obnoxious. "Cristiano Ronaldo," he says, randomly, which completely throws Lu Han off.

  
"What?"

  
Sehun slurps up a ball halfway through his straw, then blows it in Lu Han's face with a grin.

 

 

*

 

Maybe going for bubble tea after excessive drinking isn't the best idea. Maybe it is. Sehun just knows that Lu Han gets them six whole glasses in a tray, drives them to the riverside, and starts sipping on one.

  
Sehun gets one, too, and he's about to go for a second when Lu Han stops him, Goddamned hand on Sehun's Goddamned wrist again.

  
"No," Lu Han says, out of nowhere. " _No_." And before Sehun can react, the fingers have wrapped around his wrist, pulling him closer, and Lu Han is kissing him, eyes closed, shaking with something Sehun can't place. Sehun can't place _anything_ right now, but this is happening, finally, all these years and it's finally —

  
Lu Han's hand fist in his shirt and they've probably spilled bubble tea on both their jeans, and the gears and dials between their seats press uncomfortably into their thighs, but Lu Han's making soft sounds and he tastes like spearmint and, well, bubble tea, and Sehun slowly raises a hand to cup his cheek, barely able to believe that this is really _happening_ —

  
Lu Han pulls away with a loud gasp, and buries his head in his hands. Before Sehun can ask what's wrong, Lu Han's fingers tighten in his own hair. "I don't know," he whispers. "I don't know."

  
Oh.

  
"Xiao Lu," Sehun says, as if he doesn't feel like something's just been wrenched from him, stabbed and stoled and stowed out of sight. "Hyung. It'll be fine."  
  
The next time they meet, five months down the lane, it's like it never happened. Sehun still has a crumpled receipt of six bubble teas in his pocket — salvaged from the tray during the drive to Sehun's place, where Lu Han had dropped him off with just a shaky pat on the shoulder — but he acts like it never happened. And if Lu Han has any memory, any keepsake, he doesn't show it.

  
He's talking about how Chelsea is utter shit, when Sehun tilts his head.

  
"Cristiano Ronaldo?" he says, and Lu Han starts.

  
"Why does this feel like deja vu?"

  
_When doesn't it,_ Sehun wants to stay, but he just flicks a piece of tissue idly in Lu Han's direction.

 

 

*

 

"Hey, hey," Sehun says, falling onto Zitao's bed. "Come on, let's FaceTime hyung."

  
Zitao grunts, rolls over. "He'll be busy filming," he mumbles. "And then he'll be asleep. He never calls anymore."

  
Sehun knows that, ignores the rolling in his gut. "Come on," he says again. "You don't want me to use aegyo on you when you're half asleep."

  
"I don't," Zitao agrees, his hand already batting about on the sidetable for his phone. "Just take the phone and leave me alone."

  
"That's useless," Sehun insists. "I have my own phone. We're supposed to do the thing together."

  
Zitao grunts again, lying still and flat on his stomach, face in the pillow. "Alright," he says, finally. "Let me wake up first."

  
But Lu Han doesn't pick up when they call, not for fifteen whole minutes. Sehun calls again after an hour, and that's when Lu Han types in a message.  
  
_lululululu90:_  
guys  
i'm rly tired can we call later T_T

 _sehunooh:_  
ok  
how was your day did you drink enough water

_lululululu90:  
yes i drank a lot i have the entire sea in my stomach sehuuuuun_

_sehunooh:_  
ok  
good night sleep tight

_lululululu90:  
talk 2 u tomorrow homie_

_sehunooh:  
yeah!!_

  
But tomorrow is going to be the same thing over again.

It's gotten to the point where they almost gang up on him during an interview. When the guy talks about Lu Han's schedule and asks how they keep in touch, Zitao starts it. "He never picks up."

  
"Never," Sehun says. "And whenever he does, it's always just that he's tired and wants some peace."

  
"The _entire_ time he was filming," Zitao emphasises. "Ya, you think you're better than us?"

  
He makes it playful, but Lu Han has the decency to look a bit guilty as he laughs it off. They cut the segment and refilm it of course, but at least they made their point.

 

 

*

 

"Hey," Lu Han says, sleepily. He'd just gotten back from Germany for some big commercial, endorsing some... German brand, Sehun guesses. He can't be bothered to remember exactly what he's there for, he's too tired. They both are.

  
"Stayed up so you'd pick up," Lu Han jabs a finger at the screen. "Best appreciate my efforts."

  
"Haha," Sehun says, expression droll. Then he cricks his neck and stretches, and rolls in his bed for a bit.

  
Lu Han really laughs. "Hey, I called to ask how the recording went! Not to see you be a puppy."

  
"Aren't I cute," Sehun pauses mid-roll and raises his head.

  
Lu Han wrinkles his nose. "Could be cuter," he comments, and leaves it at that. "Anyway, how was the recording?"

 

 

*

Sehun sips hot chocolate from his mug.

  
It's been almost seven months now, since he'd seen Lu Han in real life last. Most weekends they webcam. Most days they text. Lu Han sent him a big white mug with a banana drawn on it. _Pinku memories~_ he'd scrawled on the post-it note stuck inside. His Hangul handwriting hadn't deteriorated in the least. Sehun sent him one of the mugs Lu Han's fansites had designed -- tall, blue, and with his jaw illustrated mid-laugh. _For your ego~_ Sehun had written back, Mandarin improved from all the Chinese fansigns, and Lu Han had sent him multiple poo emojis when he'd received it, followed by _ok though, it's pretty great, and i do love myself, so_.

  
Lu Han's toweling his hair dry, a few feet away from the laptop. "So," he says, and his voice sounds slightly tinny, and then his relay freezes. Sehun waits patiently until it comes back to normal, but all of Lu Han's audio comes out in three seconds when it does, and his words get garbled up at an unbelievably high pitch. Then his voice starts echoing like the connection's undergoing demonic possession. "Come again," Sehun says, and Lu Han repeats himself, throwing his towel away.

  
"So," Lu Han says. "How about spending Chuseok together? I have, um, reservations for Rome, and then I'll take a train to Venice."

  
"Chuseok in Venice," Sehun chews his lip. "It'll be a pretty long flight."

  
Lu Han scoffs. "You take flights like teenagers pop pills. Remember LA?"

  
Sehun smiles. "I still have the Daisy duck boxers."

  
"My Donald ones have holes in them," Lu Han confesses. "But anyway, stop trying to come up with excuses."

  
Sehun laughs. "Alright. Venice it is, then. Watery city for your watery eyes."

  
"I cried a total of, what, seven times in all the years you've seen me, ever?" Lu Han's bangs get in his eyes, and he's frowning and looking adorable even when pixelated. Then he gnashes his teeth and manages to look even cuter.

  
"Seven times is a lot for a self-proclaimed macho person," Sehun points out.

  
"Man," Lu Han sighs, flopping down completely, and all Sehun can see is tufts of his hair standing up at the bottom of his screen. "Can you believe we'd end up like this, so far away?"

 

 

*

"Time for bed," Joonmyun hyung says. "Come on, Sehun."

  
"Shh," Sehun grouses. "I'm watching Xiao Lu's message."

  
_Happy birthday_ , he's been saying, in Mandarin. _I love you._ Sehun stops the video and replays it. _Happy birthday, I love you._ Lu Han's eyes looking directly at the camera, a small smile on his face. _Happy birthday, I love you._ Sehun can hear Joonmyun sigh a little, then shuffle away. _Happy birthday, I love you._

  
Sehun rolls away from the laptop and stares up at the ceiling, ears ringing a little from all the replays. _Happy birthday, I love you._

  
A completely different country for Sehun. Back home, for Lu Han. He must be so happy.

  
_Happy birthday, I love you._

 

 

*

 

"Yeah," Sehun smiles, a little absentmindedly. "I kind of do, actually."

**Author's Note:**

> this was a bit of a stretch for me, what with canon not being my forte (and me never shipping hunhan before i actually wrote this fic... fate's cruel, i guess).
> 
> to [onyu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/onyu) for telling me to try and giving me the initial push with an idea - this wouldn't be here otherwise; to a special friend who does not, actually, know who she is - you made a big difference; to someone who probably does know, it's okay; to all, thank you.
> 
> hope you liked it!


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